


Don't Forget Me

by Camerahead12



Series: Destiel Promptober [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 15:21:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21038378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camerahead12/pseuds/Camerahead12
Summary: Day Five. Moonlight and Build





	Don't Forget Me

After exiting the house, Castiel zaps them back to the car. Dean loses his stomach as soon as his feet hit the ground. He absolutely hates flying and having done it so much in less than a few hours is really taking a toll on his body. By the time he’s emptied out everything that could possibly be in his stomach, he stumbles his way back into the drivers seat of his car, looking over to the passenger seat.

Castiel sits there, looking straight ahead, the moonlight casting dark shadows across his face making it look somewhat menacing. Dean gives a shaky sigh, turning around to see his giant brother sprawled out in the backseat, breathing deeply.

“Sam will be asleep for awhile,” Castiel says quietly.

“What the hell is going on?” Dean asks turning around too quickly, making his stomach protest.

Castiel sighs, dropping his head. “I…I don’t know.”

“Well that’s just…_great_.” Dean spits out.

He runs a hand through his hair, tugging on it trying to recall if any monster can incase whole entire houses in ice. Besides a ghost dropping the temperatures, Dean can’t think of anything off the top of his head. _As if that’s the weirdest part of this whole thing_, he scoffs to himself.

Sam hasn’t had visions since Azazel, Ruby and that whole mess. That’s been years ago. Dean knows Sam hasn’t drank any demon blood, because he’s been with him constantly over the past week on the previous case. He just doesn’t understand.

“I owe you an apology,” Castiel says, still looking down at his hands resting in his lap. The angel’s voice sounds a bit more rough than usual, and Dean wonders if maybe he’s feeling drained from using his mojo more than usual.

“Kinda drawin’ a blank here,” Dean says leaning his head back against the leather seat. The cicadas outside the car increase their annoying noises, briefly before tapering off. He rolls his head to the side to look back at the angel and shrugs slightly. “I don’t think you’ve really done anything owing me an apology, man.”

Castiel lifts his head up, tilting it at him. The moonlight coming in through the windshield almost makes it look like his blue eyes are glowing a not-quite-right blue. Darker blue. Not quite as vibrant. Dean blinks and the glow is gone, replaced by his normal inquisitive look.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you,” he replies like it should be the most obvious thing in the world.

Dean chuckles and rolls his head back over to look up at the ceiling. “Don’t hear me complain’, do ya?”

“It wasn’t my intention to do…_that_. I don’t know what came over me.” He hears Castiel fidgeting and fights the urge to look over and enjoy watching him squirm.

“Like I said,” Dean sighs sitting up again and looking back over at the angel, “it doesn’t bother me any.”

Castiel just sits there, staring at him like he’s trying to figure out something. The silence between them goes on for a moment before something tugs at the edges of Dean’s mind, nagging at him that he should be doing something. Something important.

“You are completely unfazed by kissing another man?” Castiel asks, interrupting his thought.

“Nah,” Dean shrugs. “You ain’t the first guy I’ve kissed.”

_“Dean! Open your eyes!” _

Dean whips his head around to look back at Sam. He lays, unmoving in the backseat. A sharp pain shoots through his head and he hisses, bending over to rest it on the steering wheel.

“Dean?” Castiel asks, “Dean, are you okay?” His voice is all wrong. It sounds raspy, like he’s been smoking a pack a day for most of his life.

_“We need that fire built now!”_

_ “I barely have a pulse.”_

_ “His lips are blue! Oh shit, he’s starting to convulse!”_

Dean grabs his head, starting to screams. It feels like a hundred needles are being shoved into his mind all at once, and there’s an unimaginable pressure building, and he swears at any minute his head is just going to explode.

A warm hand grips his arm, and suddenly his body feels like it’s being ripped apart. For a moment Dean wonders if he’s back on the rack and Alastair is holding another one of it sharp edged tools. Dean tries to shake free of the hand, but it grips him tighter, holding him in place.

_“It’s not hot enough! Find more stuff to burn! Anything! We need to make it hotter!”_

Why isn’t Castiel doing anything!? Can’t he see what’s going on? Why won’t he help him? Dean swears one of the voices is Sam, but that dosen’t make any sense. His brother is behind him, pretty much comatose on the seat, while he is fucking sitting here being ripped apart by phantom flashbacks of being up on the rack.

_“I can’t build it anymore, unless risking it spreading. We need to just move him closer!”_

_ “Damnit. Open your eyes Dean! C’mon, open your fucking eyes!”_

“Dean!” A familiar voice calls. He knows that voice. It’s on the tip of his tongue. “Open your eyes.”

He blinks open his eyes, squinting as the warm sunlight streams in across his face. Dean rolls over and realizes he’s in a bed; a very comfortable bed that appears to be in an actual house, not a motel room. The windows are open, and watches as the white curtains blow gently as a warm breeze comes in. He smiles and stretches out his body, listening to all his joints pop.

Wait. Wasn’t he just in the car with…with…

“Don’t you dare shut your eyes again,” A man with dark unruly hair says, walking back into the room adjusting his tie. “I’m leaving soon, and no one else is going to be here to make sure you don’t miss work.”

Dean smirks. “Until my boyfriend gets here.”

The man pauses with his tie, raising an eyebrow, his insanely blue eyes looking up and down his body slowly. He starts walking around the side of the bed where Dean is laying, and bend down. Dean grabs the blue, stripped tie dangling in front of his face, tugging the man closer.

“Whatca gunna do about?” Dean taunts.

“Well, I suppose I should make sure my husband is unable to meet,” the man’s eyes glance down quickly to Dean’s lower half. “_up_ to the challenge when said boyfriend comes around.”

Dean hums and pulls the man closer to where their lips are practically touching. “Bold of you to assume I can’t get it up again.”

The man laughs, cool breath that smells a little like mint hitting his lips. He shivers out of nowhere, jostling the man enough he falls forward over Dean, onto the bed. “Unless you’ve been holding out on me these past few years, your libido isn’t what it use to when we were in school.”

_“Cas!”_

The man’s clean shaven face above him flickers for a moment to someone who looks for scruffy and dirty. Is that blood on his tie?

Dean blinks and the image is gone. Just his husband leaning over, pressing his mint crisp lips into his. Dean hums and opens his mouth eagerly.

“Cas…” He moans as his husband pulls back a little to kiss along Dean’s jawline. "Ties on backwards."

"Maybe I do it on purpose. Just so you'll fix it." Castiel huffs and bites a little harder against his skin. “You know you can’t keep making me for late for work. My boss is going to fire me.” 

Dean turns his head to the side so Cas can have better access and chuckles. “I would like to see Sammy try and fire you. Besides him, you’re the best damn lawyer they got.”

“Mmm,” Castiel hums, nipping at the one spot where his neck meets his shoulder that Cas knows drives him crazy. “And I would like to enjoy keeping that reputation.”

“And have my bad boy reputation be ruined by allowing you to get to work on time?” Dean tsks as Cas kisses down his chest. “And I thought you knew me.”

Castiel flicks his nipple with his tongue, then closes his mouth around the nub licking and sucking until Dean is a withering mess of pants and moans. His husbands hair is fucked three ways from Sunday from Dean running his hands through it, and hot damn, he loves when Castiel looks like this. Dean closes his eyes just basking in the feeling of his husbands touch.

_“We’re losing him! He’s seizing!”_

_ “DEAN!”_

Suddenly, the comfort of Castiel’s mouth is gone. Dean tries to move, but it’s like his limbs weigh a ton. Nothing is responding. Something cold touches his forehead, and he gasps. His whole body shudders and Dean is suddenly, very aware at how unbelievably cold his whole body is.

“He’s moving!” A gravelly voice calls out somewhere beside him.

“Dean!” Another male voice practically screams. “Dean! You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be alright. Damnit, Charlie! Get me another blanket!”

“Here! Here!” The female voice says. “I found some more books down the hall I’m going to go back and get for the fire.”

Dean tries to open his mouth and thinks he might actually have done it, but even his lips are numb. He tries to respond, but his throat prickles and burns cold, like he just swallowed about a hundred ice cubes all at once.

“Don’t try to speak,” The first voice says, quietly. “I’m trying speed up the process of heating up your vocal cords, but it’s a very delicate process. I managed to unblock your airways just in time, it seems.”

Putting all his effort into trying to make his eyes move, he manages to crack on one. Above him, his husband – no, not husband – his angel is kneeling above him, and there is a bluish glow coming from his own body reflecting back up on him.

He’s concentrating so hard on whatever he is doing to Dean that he doesn’t realized Dean’s eye is open until he glances up after a few moments. The intense, focused look that the angel was holding moments before melts away instantly, leaving behind a face that screams nothing but _relief_.

“Dean…” He whispers.

“C-C-Ca…” Dean tries to push out, but his voice clenches closed. Castiel’s face falls back into concern as his head dips down, hands moving over his body again in deep concentration.

“I need to warm up your internal organs to their proper temperature,” he says. “You almost died.”

_“I almost always die, Cas. S’nothing new.” Dean mumbles, turning his head away. _

Visions of Castiel gripping onto his shirt and pulling them up until their mouths meet hits Dean so hard, his back arches involuntary, and his whole body begins to shake violently. He hears his brother voice yelling something, and warmth (too warm!) running through him so suddenly, he swears he was just thrown into the sun.

More images flash behind his closed eyes as the heat burns him from the inside. He watches himself living a life with no monsters. Married to a man who best friends with his brother. Coming home at night to be met with a kiss, and cooking dinner together.

More images from more lives he’s never live, but feels like he has, replay behind his eyelids until it abruptly stops. It all stops. The heat. The shaking. The pain. The cold. The everything.

Slowly, very slowly, Dean cautiously opens his eyes. Above him Castiel and Sam are looking down at him, their breath coming out in quick puffs. He wiggles his fingers, making sure he is really feeling everything again. Very cautiously, he brings his hand up and grabs a hold of the dangling blue tie. Castiel blinks down at him in confusion, and Sam looks back and forth from both of them.

“You always put this thing on backwards."

**Author's Note:**

> I am not even the littlest bit sorry. XD


End file.
